Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, LAMENT FOR KING EDWARD 1, by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LAMENT FOR KING EDWARD 1, by                    
First Line: All men that be of heart full true
Last Line: "that he to jesu's bliss us send / amen, amen, for charite!"
Subject(s): "edward I, King Of England (1239-1307);


ALL men that be of heart full true
Hearken awhile to this my song
Of dole, that Death has dealt anew,
(I needs must sigh and sorrow long -- )
I sing a knight, so brave and strong,
Of whom God now hath done His Will,
Methinks that Death hath wrought us wrong
That he so soon lies cold and still.

I trow all England well doth know
Of whom that song is which I sing,
Edward our king, now lieth low,
Thro' all the world his name doth ring!
The truest man in everything,
Wary in war was he, and wise,
For him our hands we needs must wring,
Of Christendom he bare the prize!

Before that this, our king, was dead,
He spake as one oppressed with care:
"Clerks, knights, and barons," so he said,
"I charge ye by the oath ye sware
That ye to England now be true;
I die, my life is well nigh done,
Aid ye my son, crown him anew,
For he is nighest to the throne."

"Here I bequeath my heart aright
That it be ta'en, as I devise,
Across the sea; let Hugh be dight
With fourscore knights, all men of prize,
Who wary be in war, and wise
Against the Paynim for to fight:
To raise the Cross, that lowly lies,
Myself I'd given, an I might."

O! King of France, thou workedst ill
When to such deed didst set thy hand
To hinder thus King Edward's will
To go unto the Holy Land.
Our king, he fain had given command
All England so to rule, I wis,
That, faring to the Holy Land,
We thus had won us Heavenly Bliss.

A messenger, the Pope he sought,
And told him that our king was dead,
The letter that he there had brought,
The Pope himself he took, and read.
I trow his heart became as lead --
He spake a word of honour there:
"Alas!" he said, "is Edward dead?
Of Christendom the flower he bare!"

The Pope, he to his chamber went,
For sorrow he might speak no more,
Straight for his Cardinals he sent
Who well were versed in Holy lore,
And both the less, and eke the more,
He bade them both to read and sing --
Then might ye see a dole full sore,
How many a man his hands did wring.

Saint Peter's Pope, he stood at Mass,
And there, with great solemnity,
The soul departed did he bless;
"King Edward, honoured shalt thou be!
God grant that thy son after thee
May end what thou hast well begun,
The Holy Cross, once wrought of tree,
Full fain thou hadst Its freedom won!"

"Jerusalem, thou here hast lost
The Flower of all chivalrie,
King Edward from this life hath passt
Alas, that he so soon must die!
He would have raised again on high
Our banners brought unto the ground,
Full long we needs must call and cry
Ere such a king again be found!"

Now Edward of Carnarvon, he,
The king of England shall be hight,
God grant that he no worse man be
Than was his sire, nor less of might
To see the poor man hath his right,
And counsel good to understand;
He shall not fail for faithful knights
To help him rule our English land.

But tho' my tongue were made of steel,
And this, my heart, of molten brass,
The goodness I might ne'er reveal
That did with our King Edward pass.
King, whom men hailed as conqueror
In every fight thou fought, I wis,
God bringeth thee to that honour
That ever was, and ever is,
And lasteth aye without an end --
To God, and this, Our Lady, pray
That he to Jesu's Bliss us send
Amen, Amen, for Charite!





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